Ephemeral Dream
by AngelDeLumiere
Summary: It was a warm summer’s night, with the moon shining like silver overhead as three silver-edged figures glided overtop the gabled roofs of London. Though he could not remember it, it was the last night that Allen Walker ever spent with his parents.


Ephemeral Dream

By: AngeDeLumiere

Written: April 14, 2009

Word Count: 11,003

Pages: 22

Rating: Teen

Summary: It was a warm summer's night, with the moon shining like silver overhead as three silver-edged figures glided overtop the gabled roofs of London. Though he could not remember it, it was the last night that Allen Walker ever spent with his parents.

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She never thought that it would come to this. The world shook as fireworks exploded in the inky sky. The world before them was illuminated with ominous blood reds and terrifying emerald greens. She blinked as another of the endless explosions went off, shaking the very foundations of the ancient stone building. Shrieks of babes crying for their mother's bosoms, and women's screams of fright echoed in the warm night air. All around her, bodies lay, bleeding from mortal wounds or dead. Cordelia Walker shut her eyes in disgust as she picked her way through the ghostly corpses; many of the fallen had been her friends. It was cowardly, running from the fight, the exorcist knew that. Hubris, however, would not stop her from fulfilling her God-given mission: protecting her only child.

She might have been a soldier of God, but she was a mother to her son first and foremost. She stated time and time again that no one came above Allen. Now was the time to prove it. Out of the entrance hall, she began to run with all over might. Her hands clutched her heavily brocaded bustle dress, pulling it up well past her knees so that she could run faster. All the while Cordelia tried to wrap her mind around the events of the evening. It wasn't supposed to have happened like this.

They had received intelligence that the Millennium Earl was going to attack the Papacy in Rome. Swiftly and silently, they had removed him from the Vatican, and, by ship for train was far too conspicuous, had brought him to London; to their stronghold. They were arrogant and foolish. They believed that they were invincible within the great stone walls of their castle. They decoy bishop left to act as the Pope, Ignatius, assured them that they were acting according to God. They thought that they were the righteous ones, that it would end tonight. The ambush waiting for the Earl was in the Vatican. The best exorcists had flocked to the Holy City in stealthy droves. It should have ended tonight.

And…

…End it did. But it was not the of the Millennium Earl, as many had dared hope it was. The parties had begun already. They all were merry and slightly inebriated as they danced and spun in circles, celebrating a victory that should have been theirs. Raucous laughter and the sound of bows scraping over fiddle strings filled the low-ceiling saloon. Four fiddlers, their feet tapping in tune with the merry jig, played beside the floor were couples danced arm-in-arm. Cordelia had included herself in the frivolity. She had been dancing energetically, her skirt flying high up past her knees and her hair bouncing wildly. Screaming with laughter, the song seemed to last forever. That was when the screams of merriment was replaced by screams of terror. They thought they were celebrating the Earl's demise, when, in reality, they were mourning their own deaths.

It would be a miracle if a fourth of their numbers survived tonight.

Bursting into her rooms, she surveyed the refined elegance that she had spent so many years crafting. No one in the world could dispute Cordelia Walker's grandiloquent taste. They had a chaise from Burma, rugs from India, elegantly simplistic French art to decor the walls of the large chamber. It was a fairy tale room. And it was all going to burn in minutes. Running from her sitting room, she flung open the ornate door to her nursery. Sure enough, she found Lottie, her child's maid, rocking her precious angel in the corner. Startled at the loud noise, the normally skittish girl looked like she was going to swoon at the next loud noise.

"Madame!" Lottie cried when she recognized the white apparition kneeling before her. Cordelia's fingertips brushed against Lottie's exposed arm as she reached for her child. The poor girl was shivering from fright, paler than milk. She almost resembled an akuma, such was her distraught. She looked down at the quivering maid with her bright cinnamon eyes slicing daggers through the world. "Lottie," she said calmly, "Run,"

Pulling Allen tight to her chest, Cordelia rose to her feet. Though she was short in stature, her presence was foreboding and powerful. The girl did not need to be told twice. Scrambling to her little feet, Lottie gathered up her skirts and fled the room, knocking against a table as she did so. The frame housing Mana and Cordelia as she held Allen fell to the ground, shattering like everything else had tonights. She watched the open door for a long moment before she turned her attention to her squirming son. Allen blinked up at her with his large gray eyes, his father's eyes. Despite the gravity of the situation, her perfect angel smiled widely as he recognized his mother, and let out a joyous cackled. He freed his hands from the blanket that he had been tightly wrapped in to reach for her. His tiny hands grabbed a tendril of her ivory hair that fell from her extensive coiffure from the night's events. She could not help it, as she brushed his own snowy hair from his face. Allen released her hair as he fisted her finger, finding it a better chew toy. He was so small. At seventeen months, she could still hold him like she would an infant, it just took a little more finagling. It worried her that he might be swept away from her in the dead of night.

Cordelia screamed as she heard the snarl of an akuma. They were coming for her. Many times, she had been warned that her child was too great a threat to the Earl for him to go unnoticed. The son of two powerful exorcists, and not just any exorcist--but, her, it was a miracle that it had taken him this long to discover Allen. If she had her way, it would be even longer before the pointy-eared fiend glimpsed at her child. She was wasting precious time loitering in her room; time that she needed to spend running.

Sensing his mother's change in mood, Allen fell silent. He watched his mother with omniscient eyes as she clutched him to her breast. Cordelia snuck a look around the corner. She had heard voices, but she could see no one. Whoever it was had ran the opposite direction. Praying that she did not lead her son to his death, Cordelia ran down the stone hallway. She ran past her brethren who fought valiantly for their lives, and for hers. She dodged bullets and felt the air move as a sword swung overtop her head. She dove between legs and ran through battles.

"Corde!" she heard a comrade cry out to her. He was begging her for help. Three akuma were overwhelming him, and, if she did not aid him, his soul would soon be lost to Heaven above. She didn't stop; she couldn't stop. She ran, blinking away the tears that trickled down her face. So many innocent people would die tonight, so many people that she could help. So many people that weren't her son. She cried for them, but she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. No one was more important than Allen.

Cordelia knew that she would be safe if she could get to a hidden elevator. It took them out to the gardens. In those mazes even the most advanced akuma would get lost. Only those personally aware of the hedges could navigate the endless maze. Allen began to cry. His mother was holding him too tightly, her fingers unknowingly dug into his soft skin.

"Sshh…ssshhhh," she cooed to her son. Cordelia whipped her head around frantically, hoping that she saw no akuma, no friends, no foes. Thank God. She was alone with her son in the small corridor. "It's all right, angel," she softly whispered. "Hush hush, little one. Hush!" she pleaded with Allen.

"Thank God for the brat's shrieks," a deep voice from behind her declared. Cordelia wanted to cry from surprise, but only her pride stopped her. She turned to look at her lover, who glared daggers at her. Cinnamon eyes followed the thin arm that he had ensnared in his fist. Poor Lottie stood shaking in fear and awe as the General held her captive. "I've been looking everywhere for you. You're a damn hard woman to find. I found this," he jerked on Lottie's arm, causing the girl to squeal, "Running from your room. I figured she deserted the kid,"

Cordelia glared at him. He refused to say Allen's name, to acknowledge his existence. He always called him the brat or the kid. In his own twisted way, Cordelia supposed it was his way of showing affection.

"Madame!" cried Lottie. She begged her mistress for help. The panic was evident on her homely face as she wiggled, trying to break free of the General's iron grasp. It was to no avail, the man was nearly twice Lottie's size.

"Let her go, Cross," Cordelia ordered. Cross Marian arched an eyebrow, demanding to know why he should let a weakling like Lottie leave them. He had always told Cordelia to not trust the girl. Servants were cowardly and weak; they would turn on you as soon as you looked the other way. "I told her to run," she explained exasperatedly.

Cross Marian dropped her arm. Lottie ran away from him to stand behind her mistress. Despite her size, she was a powerful, wrathful creature. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" he hissed at her. "Running like a madwoman through this mess? It's beyond weak,"

"As I have said before, Cross, nothing comes before my son," Cordelia retorted. She pulled her now quieted child against her, shielding himself from the debris and the hate that filled the world.

"Then let's save that brat of yours," Cross declared with a grumpy look. Striding forward, he grabbed her elbow and began to drag her down the corridor. Over his shoulder, he ordered to Lottie, "Hop to it, girl. We don't have all day."

With a terrified squeak, the girl hurried after the mistress and her lover. In Lottie's opinion, Cross Marian was too arrogant, and crass for the refined and poised Cordelia Walker. If the mistress knew half of the women that he had supposedly slept with during her absence, Lottie was sure that never again would the General lay a finger on Cordelia's delicate skin.

It took them no time at all to reach the hidden elevator. Cross pulled it open with one hand and shoved Cordelia in with the other. He did not wait for Lottie before he entered himself, barely giving the maid time to scramble inside. The doors shut with a frightful snap, and seconds later, they were plummeting down in the inky darkness.

Deep down, as they fell with their stomachs floating in their throats, Cordelia knew that this was all her fault. This was her punishment for her sins: lying, cursing…adultery. Her lover, the man she loved with her entire entity, wrapped a steely arm around her waist. He was protecting her from everything: the fear of falling, the darkness that ebbed in around them, the fight that raged on above their heads, and even from death itself. Cross was her shield, her lover, her knight in shining armor, and he always would be. She loved him desperately.

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_They belonged together, completely and utterly. The night she returned after two years of separation was one of the most passion-filled nights that they had had, despite her newly wed husband and her son. Their son. Despite the fact that they are exhausted from their long trip, Walker relaxes with friends and fine wine. She immediately returns to his open, waiting, eager--oh, so eager arms. What can you say when it is love? Nothing mattes, and when it is true love, then nothing will keep it in pieces. _

_They both know of their sin. He couldn't keep his pants on while she away way, and many women have spent loveless nights in his bed, keeping him warm. She knows that it should have been her, but she can't bring herself to apologize. He knows that she should be dutifully awaiting her husband in their chambers, but he can't bring himself to let her go. He knows that the next time she walks out his door, she is not coming back. This night, she will fall, and he will be redeemed. _

_In those loveless nights where he has known so many willing women, he shared something with them that he could not give her. Loneliness. With her gentle strokes and loving words, she will take it away. She is here again, she is back home. She is _**his**_. With kisses and caresses, first soft and then needy, they shall revive the ghosts of their past, and emotion will shake him and he will touch her as though she were the blazing sun. He will close his eyes and let go, letting her take him away as he carries her to the edge. Everyone who knows them hears the whispered words passing between them, as well as the desperately-spoken names, the gasps and cries, the sighs of completion, the tiny pleas and the softly-spoken but unbreakable vows made. The room is rich with the fragrance of their passion. _

_To the rest of the world, he is a monster. In her soulful eyes, he is a man of aches, tragedy and yearning. With the rest of the world, he is crass, and rude, arrogant and dismissive. The all look down on him, angry at his power, his intrigue, at everything he is. They see his sin plainly, and they refuse to forgive him. With her, he only seeks to give her joy. Joy that Walker stole from her. His only desire is to give her joy, to make her forget her husband and her son, and they both know he shall succeed. He would render her wanton and shameless, ardently alive and charged with need, trembling and drunk on every detail of him, but he will want something more than that. Together, something more equal will take place, and they lose themselves in the night and in each other. She know he will be masterfully careful with her, for she is his only treasure and he values her more than his own life. The misery and longing of so many years will show, and he will drink her pleasure as a lifetime of anguish dissolve when they kiss and become one._

_She is a horror, and neither can hide from it. She has done things that she can never take back, but he loves her regardless. He is eternally grateful that God would send him someone like her. Angel incarnate. If anyone were ever to watch them, they would be shocked to see how he responded when she called out his name, the flurry of the desperate emotions she evokes. They would never understand it but even they would think it was remarkable. _

_He will be tender with her, and when his mouth touches hers in a kiss, it will mean something and promise much. His hands will slide over her reverently and his arms will wrap around her, holding her close, as she responds and touches him in return, drinking in the feel of him. The limits of her control will be tested, but she will not break. He will worship every part of her devoutly, and pay tribute to her limbs, her skin, her lips, her eyes, her hair, and all her smiles and secrets. He will be gentle, slow and strong as he moves in her and their heat melts the pain they have both endured. Tonight, he will submit to love, and become not it's master, but it's slave. When this night finally comes, his lips will brush the scar on her forehead and kiss the lingering pain away. Perhaps he will shed tears as she reaches for him with a small, wandering hand and caresses his face as though they were never separated. As if they shall never be separated again. _

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They plummeted down to the ground, silent as the grave, though the wheels and mechanisms groaned loudly in protest. They had never been pushed so hard, so long, and they would not stop. Not until they reached the bottom. They came to an abrupt stop. Cordelia was thankful for Cross's strong arm wrapped around her body to keep her steady. Allen was squirming again, tired and hungry. The rarely used door slowly creaked open, filling the compact compartment with silvery moonlight. Allen began to wail from the moon's intensity, miserable in every way, shape and form. Cordelia soothed her child the best she could as her lover scowled at the scene. Brusque as ever, Cross grabbed her hand and drug her out of the elevator, heedless of the boy or Lottie. It didn't matter to him if either lived or survived.

The extensive gardens loomed before them. Cross did not stop as he drug the party into the maze, ready to loose any pursuing akuma. "Lottie, stay close!" Cordelia called. The maid did not need to be told twice. She followed on her mistress's heels, ardently aware of the General's dark scowl, and his murderous countenance. If Lottie did not stay with the mistress, who knew what the mountebank would do to her.

To Lottie, it felt like they were running in circles. The tall hedges all looked the same to her, towering far above her head like emerald statues. Not even the wind moved a leave on the branches. The sound of trickling water was always in the nearby distance, calling out to them with a siren's song. She thought that perhaps they were going to the fountain, the elegantly crafted basin of cherubs and seraphim that Lottie had only seen once. The rumors said that the large, mystical fountain was the center of the maze, and that if all who found it were so charmed by its beauty that ne'er did they leave. Did it have some Innocent power that would stop the akuma that followed them closely?

Exhaustion slowly chipped away at her bones, calling Lottie to slow down. Reason screamed at her that she was safe, that the pursuing akuma wanted nothing with her. It was the mistress that they wanted, her and her monster of a child. Lottie loved the boy, but even she found his disfigured arm revolting. She had served the Walker family faithfully for two years, and though loyalty for her master, his wife, and their offspring flowed thickly through her veins, sanity screamed at her to flee for her life. The mistress was strong; she could fend for her child on her own. Plus, if the General accompanied her, she would be safe. Lottie knew that neither one would go extensively out of their way to save her should the occasion rise; she was better off on her own.

"This way," Cross said as he pulled Cordelia into a small, flower-rimmed passage. Exotic flowers lined the twisting stone walk, making it seem like the corridor behind them was closing moments after they past through it. A large, circular area was before them. Lottie gasped. They had found what the exorcist nicknamed the "Fountain of Youth." It was beautiful. It was twenty meters in diameter, constructed entirely of stone. An angelic being stood in the center of the fountain in a beautifully crafted garment with her arms outstretched and beckoning to all. Around her were smaller, more chubby cherubs with harps and lyres, flanked by seraphim with bows and arrows. From her fingers, the water poured, symbolizing the waters of life.

Cross did not stop long enough to let them admire the beauty. Maid forgotten, he pulled his beloved Della along, focusing only on her safety. He promised to get her and her brat out safely, and dammit, he was going to keep a promise for once. Getting beyond the wall of the Black Order was easy enough; he had done that more times than he could count. It was getting out of London and away from the bloodthirsty akuma that had caught their supple scent, that presented the challenge.

"This way men!"

"Over here! Come quickly!"

"Don't give up, men! Hope is not gone yet!"

The screams that had been muted by the iron elevator were around them in full force. Even the most battle hardened exorcists fled from the Earl's malign wrath. The Black Order had met its demise. After tonight, Armageddon would engulf the nescient world in full force. They had failed their duty to God and man. In their final moments, nothing seemed powerful enough to beat back the Earl.

Cordelia's comforting grip on Cross's hand tightened. She squeezed it with all of her might, aghast to risk her child and return to her duty yet terrified to flee to the underbelly of the city. Both ways were hazardous, and death was ineluctable. Either way, it was unlikely that they would survive the night. Here, she could take a stand, turn the tide in favor of the light. Yet to do so willing put her child in harm's way, something she could never do, however much she wished otherwise. "Cross," she whispered softly.

Cross Marian turned to face her with wide eyes. Her large, doleful eyes pleaded with him to return to the fight. He was a magnificent warrior, a powerful exorcist, a General; he could make a difference, he could single-handedly save the world. Her lover turned to look at her. Somehow, he knew what she was asking. Her angelic face was etiolated save for her high cheekbones which were flushed a warm pink. Her brat squirmed in her iron grip, trying to lessen her strangling grip on him. She was breathing heavily; the night's strain on her body was not unusual for the life of an exorcist, but the fear and the umbrage was mentally getting to her. She was worried for the brat, afraid for his whimpering life. It was not own her safety she craved, but her son's, Cross realized. The one who her heart had always belonged to. She thought that he could fight the Earl, stop the waves of akuma that rolled through the stronghold, giving her enough time to get the brat to safety. Would she even come back to him, to check on his safety, after it was all over?

Cross pulled her into him for a heated kiss. He ravaged her mouth, pouring his love and his adoration into it. He wanted her to understand the depth of his love and his devotion. It was limitless and endless; she was all he wanted to know for eternity. He wanted her to reciprocate, to feel this depth and devotion forever. He worshiped the ground that she walked on, and loved every hair on her head. She made his skin ignite with the flames of Hell, and she made his soul sing praises to God. She was an angel, sent to lead them all to God. Living on earth with her bound in such ways to another man was Hell, but it would be Hell if she was not there to experience the world with him, and it would always be Hell if she were not there to lead him to Heaven. Desperately, he poured his everything into the fiery passion that exploded between them.

Cordelia pulled back, panting with the desperate need to fill her lungs with precious oxygen. She had thrown her arm around his neck during the intercourse, pulling him closer to her. Her scintillating cinnamon eyes locked on with his, and in her intense gaze, he saw the depth of her own love and devotion. In her eyes, she told him in ways that words could not express that she felt the same way; that she too, was irrevocably and completely bound to him. "Cross," she whispered still. This time, it was different. It was not her begging for her son's life, but for the lives of everyone: their friends, their comrades, their fellow exorcists and their friendly finders. It was for the poor people in London who could not afford to eat that night, but still deserved to be saved. It was for the whores that lined Harper's Walk, Maria and Francis; Cross knew them all by name. It was for the world that she loved.

"No," he promised with a ferocious snarl He pulled her hard against him, crushing her tiny form in a cocoon of his own. He firmly declared, "I won't leave you! I won't!" He held her so tightly that he was turning her creamy skin a blueish purple, and smothering her brat. The kid shrieked in protest, but his Della did not seem to notice for she clung to him just as desperately. She buried her head in his chest, and he felt her tears soak his uniform. The leather would be forever changed by her. She was his woman, no matter what the fucking ring on her finger said. The crying infant, though he was incredibly annoying--God, how Cross wished he was his. He would have reared the boy right, teaching him how to fight and behave and how to spit, as well as the rest of the arsenal of all things manly. The two in his arms should have been his. Walker did not know what he had if he was so willing to forsake them for his work. "Never," he swore.

"I love you," he whispered to her.

"Marian!" a voice called.

The two lovers jerked apart out of habit. Cordelia quickly moved to tend to Allen while Cross glared at the interruption. Froi Tiedoll swiftly walked towards them, his face dark and grave. "You've had the same thought," he muttered apprehensively.

Cordelia hushed her sobbing babe for a brief moment as she returned to her place beside Cross. Her beautiful head was held high with pride; she would not show shame for her actions, no matter how much of a sin they were. Tiedoll bowed low, acknowledging the unfaithful wife of a fellow General. "Cordelia," he addressed her without her title. They were on too familiar terms for such proprieties to be used.

"General," she nodded her head.

Tiedoll opened his mouth to address Cross, but the read haired exorcist pulled Judgement from its holster. Tiedoll's eyes shot open as Cordelia screamed "Cross!" Gaze blackened, the General fired off three shots in rapid succession. The holy bullets whizzed overtop of Tiedoll, missing his hair by centimeters. They al watched, transfixed as the bullets sailed into a level three akuma that silently came upon them, its eyes blazing with murderous intent. All having seen akuma deaths often, they did not waste precious time staring at it.

Grabbing Tiedoll by his collar, Cross pulled his comrade close to him. He shook with inconsolable rage, as he held the man tightly. There was no escaping the red haired man's wrath. The look on his face told Tiedoll that Cross Marain planned to kill him for drawing the akuma to the epicenter of the garden, to Cordelia. "How dare you!" he yelled, shaking the other General, "How dare you bring them here!" He accused the man while trying to think of the best way to kill him.

Tiedoll looked at Cordeila, ruefully. Her husband had been frantically searching for her and Allen since the attack began. Though he was not a loving man, he was a possessive one. It was good that it was Tiedol that had stumbled upon them, and not Corde's husband. Knowing that this would only enrage Marian further, Tiedoll confessed it with a regretful sigh. "I'm the scout, you should know that. We would never sent the masses here without some semblance of safety."

He paused, searching their faces for any lingering trace of sin. Despite the presence of others, they clung desperately to each other, holding on as if was all that kept hem alive. This was their moment to escape and run; to run forever, away from the Order, and General Walker. This was their chance at freedom, and love. And he, in his haste, had stolen it

Well, great. Now he felt bad.

All levity away from his thoughts and countenance, he gravely, almost sorrowfully, informed them. "James is leading the retreat."

Cordelia's face etiolated to a frightful color. Cross glared at his fellow General. He looked intimidating, but Tiedoll could see the fear hidden so carefully behind his glasses. If James walker arrived, he would whisk his wife and child away to safety before Cross could blink. He would never see Corde or Allen again. Despite his scoundrel facade, it was obvious to the world that the man cared deeply for the woman and her child. To loose her palliative presence would no doubt revert him to his scandalous ways. Tiedoll watched as Cros subconsciously reached for Cordelia, who responded but then Allen, mystifyingly sensing his mother's imminent betrayal began to fuss. Corde gave her should to Cross as she tended to the boy. Tiedoll sighed. It was heart-breaking.

Catching sight of Lottie standing off to the side for the fist time, the grand General flushed. "Oh," he stuttered, "Hello. I didn't see you there."

Cordelia whipped around. Her long white hair flew behind her like a white cloud. It had fallen free its elaborate style, handing far below her shoulders. As it rolled down her back in waves, he thought it looked much better free of its confines, but then what did Tiedoll know about women. Cordelia flushed as rosy hue from embarrassment while Cross looked obstinately smug, the bastard. It did not take a brain surgeon to figure out that something risque had occurred before her watchful eyes.

"Cross, come," Tiedoll ordered in hopes of salvaging the situation. "Help me open the passage way." He didn't look to see if the younger General obeyed as he strode over to the fountain. Though it was a one man job, Cross followed Tiedoll dutifully. He might have been a hard ass, but he was wise enough to understand the man's intent.

"What's going on?" He heard the girl as Della.

Cross grasped one of the angels open arms and began to pull it. Tiedoll took the other. Together, they pushed the angel's open, beckoning arms closed, so that it appeared that she was was praying. As they did this, a whole in the fountain opened up from the basin in, revealing a long and winding staircase and a dark tunnel. The water still wept from the angel's fingers, creating thing streams that led the travelers tot he tunnel's end.

"We're getting out," Della answered crisply. Her eyes met Tiedoll's, and he gave her a nod. "We all are."

The screams around the grew louder. They surrounded the group with red bloodshed, forming a cocoon of death. The night seemed to be coated in red, despite the silvery moon. The world was colored red forever, stained with the death of thousands exorcists. Innocents, God's chosen guardians, exorcists…countless had died tonight the service of a lost cause. This night would forever be remembered the as the night of death.

"The four of us?" Lottie pushed. Her voice shook, and her eyes flickered to the many entrances to the courtyard. She was as skittish as a doe.

Without warning, a cloud of akuma swarmed over them. Lottie screamed in fright. Cross pulled Judgement from its holster, and Tiedoll reached for his pendulum. Cordelia went for her innocence, but quickly found that she didn't need it, for with a ferocious battle cry, exorcists aplenty burst from within the maze. Though they were outnumbered, and would soon be overpowered, they still fought valiantly. Behind the exorcists came the finders, the scientists, and the staff of the Order. It was a sight for sore eyes. Though easily half of their numbers had been decimated, the Order still dauntlessly fought on. An enemy pressed into a corner was the most dangerous, and the members of the Black Order had nothing to lose.

"Lead them out!" Tiedoll yelled to Cross above the noise and confusion. "Run! This is your chance!"

Cross looked at the open fountain and then to Cordelia. She watched her comrades fighting with everything they had. They look on intense disgust was etched so deeply onto her pale face, as she stared at the hoard of akuma. Her body shook in rage, and Cross realized that she stared ate one man as he fought. And the he knew that she would not leave. For this moment, she was lost to him.

"No!" he yelled back to the other General. "You take them! You know the tunnels better than anyone!" That was a lie and they both knew it. Cross used the tunnels almost daily to meet some whore on the street. He knew every twist and turn, every passage and crevice like the back of his hand. If anyone could navigate the mass safely out of the umbrageous passage, it was Cross. He wasn't willing to leave Cordelia, however, and they both knew that as well. If anything happened to her, he would die, and he would want to die as quickly as possible. Here was the place to do that.

Tiedoll nodded his head. "Okay!" Turning to the mass that rushed him, he yelled, "To me Everyone to me! I'll lead you out!" With that said, Tiedoll leapt into the inky whole. He disappeared as the mass rushed over him like the ocean, trampling them beneath their feet. That was the last time that Cross would see his friend.

Rushing back to Cordelia, he pulled her tightly into his arm. She shook with fear, frustration, and anger. They both knew that it was her fault that the Earl was so merciless in his attacks. He wanted revenge, absolution, and he would take it anyway that he could. Preferably with her death, Allen's death, her husband's death, and her lover's as well. She would rather die than let that happen. Perhaps her death would solve this all…

"We should leave," he whispered to her.

"No," she shook her head violently. "No. We should fight,"

"It's not safe here." As much as it pained him to say this, for it was the last thing he wanted, he knew that he had to. "Think of Allen," he whispered the brat's name. It was like pepper on his tongue, bitter and admittedly unpleasant. But the kid was precious to Della, and Della was precious to him. If he wanted Della's happiness, he would have to care a modicum amount for the brat.

"I want to do what's best for Allen," she whispered. "But I want to fight."

"CORDELIA!" a deep, dark voice screamed.

For the second time that night. Cordelia Walker jerked away from her lover. She clutched her child to her, and looked towards the voice. The voice she knew so well. It was the voice that called to her in the middle of the night, that yelled her name with blissful passion, the voice that made her heart melt despite her attachment with Cross, the voice that belonged to him. Her husband. He who fought while she ran, who was only brave while she was full of cowardice, he who was faithful while she ran to the arm's of another man.

"Cordelia!" he screamed at her again.

"JAMES!" she screamed back at him, regardless of Cross's presence or his feelings. It did not matter then and there who she loved, James was still her husband after all. She had to have some small amount of devotion to him, some semblance of loyalty. She was not a total harlot.

She screamed when an akuma's stray strike hit him in the chest. He gasped as the air was nocked out of his body that was sent hurtling through the air. She watched it all happen in slow motion. In that brief moment where his body sailed through the air, past the akuma and somehow around his fellow humans, James's bright grey eyes met Cordelia's cinnamon ones. He yelled at her through his startling gaze, telling her to run. He watched her hold their child to her breast, shielding him with her body, and willing to die for him. She was willing to sacrifice it all for him, for the world. And he loved her for that. He loved her in every way that he knew how. He watched Cross as stood faithfully behind her, like a shadow, vigilant and eternal, waiting for the moment when he was needed. Because, unlike James Walker, Cordelia had allowed Cross Marian to know every part of her, to love every part of her, and returned that love fervidly. It was not the ephemeral love that she and James had shared, but something more potent, something more lasting. In that brief moment, as he sailed through the dense night, James's bright grey eyes met Cordelia's soft cinnamon ones, and she knew…

…_sweat poured off her body as she writhed in between the cotton sheets. She could feel his warm breath burning against her swollen flesh. It was wrong, she thought. A sin, she knew, as she fisted his hair, pulling him closer. For so long, she had been untouchable, impervious to the world. They all looked at her, reacted to her, but they did not know her. They had feared her. But as her virgin curves pressed against the thin folds of her nightgown, she knew he didn't care. To him, it didn't matter what her past was, who she married. All he wanted to know was her. And she was willing to let him. His smoldering gaze raked over her. He luxuried in the feeling of his superiority. She needed him, like she needed oxygen, and she would do anything for him. She submitted completely to him, and that chauvinistic side of him reveled in it._

_Her back arched up from the down bed. She seemed to gravitate towards him. She craved everything about the General in her bed. Sweat poured from her body, making her ivory skin glisten in the silver moonlight. Her hands fisted in the silk sheets as her head tossed in abandonment. She shrieked for him, called out his name into the black abyss around them. He stopped, and hovered over her, watching every move she made. In the dead of the night, she surrendered to him completely. Where was the American woman and her mysterious principles of life now, the darkness that created her laughed as the undulating curves and domes of flesh emerged every now and then from its shadows as she twisted in her pleasure, snakelike and delicious. Her mouth was parted as though she was drinking in the obscurity, rendering herself drunk in its tasteful promises, letting herself seduced by its attractive hue. Was it truly unconsciousness that allowed her to stretch out her delicate fingers into the void of night--and was it unconsciousness also that allowed her to extract from its uncertain depths a filament of dream, an idea of solidity… her blunt nails ground against skin of an almost liquid countenance, as cool and silky as water--that which resides between the visible and the unseen, the tangible and the unreal-–running through her nerves, drowning her in an ecstasy of sensation._

_From beneath his top hat, he stood as an ingenious parody of the gentleman- and the kiss she received from him much resembled his appearance… yet she preferred this satirical delight by far. She knew reality only too well – too long she had been hiding behind its numerous curtains. Too much reality only shuns your vision of everything else. Is it not what a woman yearns, after all? Ever unsatisfied, ever asking herself why these things that occupy her life never seem to completely fill her… perhaps it is because a woman is only rarely offered the chance to feed her own darkness – it is not deemed as healthy to do so, and yet, she would rather a full cup of delicious poison than a half-cup of tasteless, too-young wine. Must she really pick out fruits from the realm of the unknown, the realm of all that is imaginary and indefinable, in order to reach satisfaction?_

_Their moans filled the frigid night air. The intense differences between the night around them and the pulsing heat that engulfed them was striking. Heat shivers covered her entire body as she reached for him. Everything about him beckoned to her; a beacon of heat that lured her away from the road, a raging inferno that would have made Dante weep. Every time he was near her, it felt like she was melting. Every time she touched his face, his arm, caressed his hand, his lips—she would pull away wondering if her delicate skin would blister. The covers were glued to her sweaty limbs as she shifted-–like tortuous serpents of rose-hued silk they wrapped around her legs, her waist, her small white hands. She felt their soft caress with a giddiness that was not in her nature._

_**A hand shoots out of the darkness. **_

_**"Cordelia! Cordelia!" **_

_She moaned from want. The heat of his skin pressed against her, the feel of him consuming her--she needed all of him. This was more than the need for love. This was something more carnal, more humane--no, this was something more animalistic. This was the was the indominantable urge to be fucked and be fucked ruthlessly. Hot, clumsy fingers scramble their way through the knotted sheets and find her skin as she shivers-–she had been sighing, moaning, her forearms pressed against her chest, hands on her face and tangled in her hair. A frown marred her beautiful face. Luxuria in person, a writhing sin in silken sheets--her throat extended as she burrows her head into her cushion, collarbones delicate in the moonlight, and her gown stretches over her curves, outlining her breasts, transparent folds plunging into the shadow between her legs, catching between her fingers as she spreads her hands over her skin._

_**She stops when his grip turns iron--when his fingers twist as he seemingly tries to snap the frail bone. He looks at her with his pathetically innocent eyes, grey strands falling over his face. He looks at her with the anxious eyes of a husband, the ignorant eyes of a partner who fails to notice the changes in the woman with whom he has chosen to spend his life. Down-to-earth, he thinks it is over--he believes all their troubles ended. She has disregarded that life, she has chosen the pure life. **_

_**But he has no idea.**_

_**He shakes his wife into consciousness, looming over her, his naked chest casting a shadow over her, cutting her out of moonlight's reach. She slowly, slowly opens her eyes, lashes ungluing from the tearstains freckling her cheekbones. Her mouth is parted, her eyes are heavy, drunken with sleep and… as if he could guess. **_

_**"Are you all right?" he whispers to her.**_

_**"I was dreaming," she whispers back, conscious of their child's presence. Allen lies in unaware slumber, his crib just a few feet away from their bed. **_

_**"A nightmare?" he asks with concern. "From back then?"**_

_**"No," she vigorously shakes her head. "Not that. You."**_

_**"What?" he asks, though he is not confused. His wife is so reserved, so poised, that it rare for him to her wantonly beg like this. The undertone in her voice tells it all. She did not even have to say it for him to understand. **_

_**"I need to feel you. On me," she groaned, desperate. "Please." **_

_**He answers by pulling her into a passionate kiss. It is not as passionate as those of Cross, nor does it make her weak with desire. But such is her need, that he will do. It's ironic that she thinks of her husband as second best…**_

_…_In that moment, she knew that he knew…

His body hit the ground with a sickening thud. She heard the bones break and her stomach turned queasy. That was her husband…she thought.

"WHAT IS SHE STILL DOING HERE?" he screamed as Cross. This time, his voice was harsher, and filled with pain. He was hurt badly. It was possible that if no one helped him, death would be in minutes. To him, a soon to be fallen hero, and a General, that did not matter. She was all he knew and cared about. Cordelia and Allen. But even in that moment, she was the only one to care about their son. "GET HER OUT OF HERE!" he screamed to Cross. He lay broken on the ground, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. "SAVE HER!" He pleaded with his voice hoarse from emotion. "PLEASE!"

Cross nodded to his rival once. It was the only sigh of acknowledgment or respect that he would ever give Walker. Despite her vigorous protests, Cross grabbed Cordelia be the arm and pulled her along behind him. She screamed at him, yelled at him, pleaded with him to stop, to let them go back and save James. He payed her no mind. He would honor her husband's last wish, even if she would not. He would get her out to safety.

"JAMES!" Cordelia screamed loudly when she saw a ravenous akuma descend on his body. It was the last time she saw him.

Down down down they ran into the dark abyss. By stepping into blackness, they left sanity and the world they knew behind. This was it: the point of no return. They crossed it without second thought. Cross held her hand tightly, absently rubbing circles on it despite the fact that they flew for their lives. Though he was scared, he still comforted her. Her heart beat rapidly--was it because of the adrenaline that rushed through her or was it from his electrifying touch? She did not know, nor did she care.

Behind her, Cordelia heard Lottie struggling to keep up with them. The girl was loyal to them after all. She had remained steadfast by her side while others fled, only able to concentrate on saving their own lives. The least that they could do for her was slow down. Cordelia would have, but then Allen began to fuss. She could not, for any reason or for anyone, slow down. Allen was her first priority, and she would keep him save above all else. Nothing else--no one else mattered. Not Lottie. Not James. And…not Cross.

"Keep up, girl!" Cross barked over his shoulder.

"Cross!" Cordelia reprimanded. He did not care nor did he falter. He was used to her wrath at least once a week. Besides, he could tell she really was not angry. She just had to pretended to be.

"She can keep up!" he retorted. His voice boomed loudly, easily carrying through the tunnels. "We're almost to the end. If we can get to the church, then we should be fine. Their akuma…they can't get on sacred ground."

"Keep faith, Lottie!" Cordelia yelled to the tired girl. Ironic, and perhaps never had more inappropriate words left her mouth. Faith was something that had abandoned Cordelia Walker a long time ago.

Minutes passed like hours as the akuma and the angels peered at the fleeing figures. It was interesting to watch how humans struggled to survive when their time had so obviously come. They burst out of the dank tunnel into the p air through a small door. Cordelia gasped, filling her lungs with clear air. Little Allen had been soothed to sleep by the lull of her run. He slumbered peacefully, looking like the angel he was. Just from looking at her perfect little prince, Cordelia knew that everything was going to be all right. Somehow, they would survive this hellish night, and live out happy lives. Perhaps they could live on the French coast, or cruise the world in style with the Vienna--NO! Cordelia shook her head, clearing it of any chimerical day dream of the future. Now was not the time.

"Get up, girl!" Cross snarled. Lottie had collapsed on her knees. Her head was hung from the shame of weakness. Her tiny chest rose up and down faster than a heartbeat; the girl could not breathe. "The church is close,"

The maid did not even try to raise herself up off the ground. She was spent, unable to go on. All of her limbs shook and her vision was slowly going black around the edges. Between her pants, she managed to gasp out, "I--I can't!"

"Get up, Lottie. We are almost to our sanctuary," ordered Cordelia firmly.

"You heard your mistress," snarled Cross when she failed to comply. "Get your lazy ass up!" Threading his fingers through her silky hair, he yanked on it. Hard. He pulled until a sobbing and screaming Lottie stood. Cross had to grab ahold of her arm to keep the weeping maid standing. Lottie's screams were drowned out suddenly by more feral cried. Cross felt his blood go cold as the drawing evil permeated the night air. Noah.

"Cordelia--" He turned to warn his beloved but faltered. The ivory haired beauty was already down the street, rushing for the great cathedral. Swearing like a sailor, Cross pulled the petrified Lottie along. "Hurry up, girl!"

She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, over garbage heaps, and around sewer drains. She ran past the brothels that lined both sides of the putrid street, and past the painted whores who called out to Cross. It was like a slap in the face. Cordelia had known of his promiscuity during her absence, but had not realized its extent. He knew every one of them. They all called to him in desperation, screaming his name with wet desire. They beckoned him to their welcome beds, for they too, felt a burning desire for his touch. She could hear the gasps of pain pass through the red lips as he tore past them. Chasing her.

But, it did not matter. Not to her.

She ran full speed into the church, exclaiming, "Thank God!"

A familiar chuckle rang out susurrusly. "God has not saved you," he said.

Cordelia looked around, frantically. She peered into the umbrageous shadows of the church, down the poorly illuminated isles and in the many confessionals. The wide room was full of hiding spots so clever that her weak eyes could not find them. There were too many cracks, crevices, doors and corridors to count, and the shadows were thicker than blood. "Where are you?" she demanded of him. She did not have to ask who it was, not when she had known him in her previous life.

"Della!" Cross yelled as he barreled into the church. "Are you all right?" he frantically asked, despite the fact that their separation had been for minutes.

"Cross!" she yelled in fear. "Get out of here!"

The chuckle was back. Portending to the events to come, it echoed hollowly in the church. Cross and Lottie froze on their feet, fear entrenched on their ghostly faces. They had every right to be afraid. They were about to stand before one of the greatest abominations ever known to man. Slowly from the shadows, a man in a black suit emerged. He had long brown hair slicked back into a ponytail, revealing his malice-filled eyes tinted with gold. A crown of scars encircled his grayed forehead, declaring that he was, in fact, a servant of the Earl. "So this is the legendary Cross Marian? How quaint that you spend you last moments with the man who caused your fall."

"It's good to see you, too, Cyril." Cordelia acknowledged his skewed greeting and cut her lover's retort off at the same time. She had to keep the wrathful Cyril calm long enough so that Cross and Allen could escape. She knew what the Noah wanted, and she was willing to even give him that if if ensured her child's safety, as well as that of her lover.

Cyril, however, was not pleased. Intuitive as ever, he saw through her plans with the blink of an evil eye. His mood turned sour as he pouted at her with his arms folded childishly across his chest. "And here I was, trying to be nice. You spoil all of my fun…" He shot a smoldering look at Cross and cracked a malignant grin, his mood as labile as ever. "…Della,"

"You bastard!" Cross screamed. It infuriated him that the Noah would dare desecrate his pet name for his beloved with his abominable mouth. Della struggled to keep her vice-like grip on Cross's arm. He was rash and stupid; he would get caught up in a fight that he had no business in, and a slim chance of winning. Cyril was playing on his flamboyant weakness: his pride.

"Calm down!" she hissed at him. "You're no good to me dead!" Still, he fought to reach the Noah, forcing Cordelia to call for help. "Lottie!" she cried. Instead of helping her hold Cross Marian, Lottie took Allen quietly from Cordelia's arms. Though her maternal instinct told her to claw Lottie's eyes out, she ignored it and focused on Cross.

Cyril sighed. "I can see that you're not in the mood for games, Corde. How dull. Still, I came with a message from the Earl himself. He wants to see you again."

That got Cross's attention enough to make him stop squirming. "Over my dead body!" he screamed.

Cyril glanced appraisingly at Cross. "That can be arranged," he drawled eventually. "But Corde and the Earl, well…they have some issues to take care of. Unfortunately for you, Corde, I don't think that the Earl ever intends to let you leave the Ark again."

"It will take more than that to hold me," she retorted with some heat.

"That's what I told him, but you know how he is. It will have to run him over before he'll admit it." With a gleeful smirk, Cyril shot the two lovers a wink. "Speaking of that--Cordelia, oh lovely Player, you've got fourteen seconds. Run!"

Cordelia did not need to be told twice. Heart racing, she turned on her heel and, in a moment of abandon, grabbed Cross buy the hand. Pulling his gruff hand, he fell into step behind her, and she ran behind Lottie. The maid, ironically, now clutched the thing in her life that was most dear and precious to her heart. Cordelia knowingly used her body and Cross's as an aegis, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for her child. Cross knew it as well, but said nothing, willing to silently comply with her wishes. He did love her, after all.

They ran down the apex of the church, and darted through a side door. A winding staircase stood before them. "Go!" Cordelia screamed, shoving Lottie, who halted at the impressive magnitude of the staircase. Panting from exhaustion, Lottie began the hurried trek up the stone stairs. She shrieked when Cordelia, angered at the girl's slow pace, ripped off the first layer of her many skirts, and then other, until she ran in a flimsy slip and her underwear. Her face was beat red. She was in a church, for propriety's sake! But she had to admit, her legs felt lighter and more free. It was easier to run free of the heavy skirts.

Despite her increased pace, a fully clothed Cordelia had no problems keeping up with her. She still was going too slow. Behind them they heard the Noah's outre chuckle reverberate with malice. His slow, almost tedious footsteps echoed loudly. He was not even trying to catch up with them and yet he gained ground. Fear spurred Lottie on faster.

"This way!" Cross ordered, opening a door.

Lottie had to backtrack a few stairs, but she passed through the large wooden door. She skidded to a halt when she realized where they were. The fool had led them to a balcony. All around them, rooftops glittered in the moonlight, shielding the cobbled streets below. From above, it was impossible to tell that this was the red light district.

"Come, Lottie!" Cordelia ordered as she rushed past her servant. With one great leap, she pushed off the rail's edge. It was a sight to see, the pale skinned angel in emerald green flying through the inky night. She looked like a Shakespearean fairy, ephemeral and full of gambol. Grace and poise flowed from her as she landed on a nearby rook. Without even pausing to adjust for balance, she ran along the eaves, her skirt billowing behind her like a cloud.

"Let's go, girl," Cross growled. Lottie squealed as he scooped her up in his arms and leapt. Lottie held on to Allen tightly, afraid that she might drop him. Despite his oh so charming personality, Cross was incredibly gentle with her and the boy as he ran. He trusted himself more than he did her as they ran on the precipice-like roof. Cordelia ran every which way, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, twisting and turning. It was to no avail. Every where, there was Cyril. He circled around them, like a vulture waiting until its prey gave up. But she wouldn't give up. Never.

"Cross!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Take Lottie to the shipyards!"

"What? No way in hell!" he screamed at her. "We're sticking together!"

"Trust me!"

"Fuck no!"

"NOW MARIAN!" Cordelia thundered.

"Shit!" Cross swore. Leaping down from the roof he was on, he tossed Lottie his black leather coat. "Take this to the shipyard. They'll give you safe passage anywhere. Take the brat, and run. Do you understand me? You run, and you don't look back. And you most certainly keep that damn boy alive."

"Yes, sir!" Lottie gave a quick curtsy. She watched as General Cross Marian kicked in the door of the house. He ran into it and up to the roof, disregarding the startled screams of the inhabitants and the shouts of anger. What the hell did he care, he had to get back up to the roof somehow. Turning, Lottie ran down the narrow London street. Pure adrenaline kept her going as she ran all the way not to the shipyard, but to the train station. Trains were faster.

"Della!" Cross shouted, terrified at the sight before his eyes.

Not ten feet in front of him, Cyril stood, his hand wrapped around Della's throat. She did not fight him, nor did she try to save herself. Tears ran like rivers silently from her large cinnamon eyes. "Cross," she called out his name.

"Now now, Corde. You made a deal. Don't go back on it," he smirked evilly at Cross, reveling in the fact that he had won. Again. There had never been a game that the Noah had lost. It was all too easy. Cordelia was easily predictable, and the man was so infatuated with her that he did as she asked. The Earl was right to send him to fetch her.

"What deal? Della, what the hell is he talking about?" Cross demanded to know.

His Della did not answer. Instead, she turned her head towards the heavens, and let the tears flow freely from her eyes. "God in Heaven on high, forgive me," she whispered. Her eyes snapped open. They were no longer the warm cinnamon color, but icy gold, and her skin turned to ash. Cross paled. Oh, dear God…no.

Cyril laughed. "That's my good little Cordelia. The Earl has been waiting for you to come home. The family has missed you." Facing Cross, he sent the General a wink. "We better be going. I hate to keep my wife waiting."

Lighting flashed and the two figures were covered in a shimmering light. In the blink of an eye, though Cross did not because he could not tear his eyes away from Della. There was a soft snap, like those of two fingers, and they were gone. All was silent. It was as if the attack had never happened. Cross collapsed on the roof and threaded his hands through his dark hair. It was the only time he cried in his life, but he did not care. Della was dead. He could only cry when such an angel left the world.

Had hours passed, or what it just minutes, he couldn't tell. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. There was one last loose end to tie up. Cross's fingers itched towards Judgement. The idea of revenge erupted through his veins. All he wanted to do was find the Earl and rip his intestines out through his freakishly pointed nose. However, he had to do one thing first. Find Della's brat. He supposed he owed it to her to raise the annoying thing, and make sure that the maid didn't sell him into some traveling circus. But when he got to the shipyards, no one had seen hide nor hair of Lottie. The girl had run off, and most likely abandoned Allen in some sewer in the process.

Well, fuck.

And just like that, in one night, the Earl had managed to destroy the entire Walker family. What would Della's brother say when Cross told him?

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A/N: Holy crap! This thing goes on forever, doesn't it? It must take forever to read it, but you can't imagine how many hours I've spent on this thing. Seriously. I am about to throw my computer at the wall just because I am so sick of it. But you know how these things are, once you've got an idea in your head, the only way to get rid of it is to get it out.

So yeah, Allen's mom. Who would have guessed? But it made sense to me. I mean, it would have to be someone special (like a lover) to get the Fourteenth to confess all. And it would make sense that it was someone close to Allen, and close to Mana. I mean, brothers are protective of their sisters. Originally, I didn't plan for Cordelia--eww, what an ugly name, right--to be the Player, it just sort of happened. I was writing it, and then I realized what I was implying, and I was like, oops! Heh-heh.

Anyway, in my little psychotic mind, Cordelia got married to James Walker, had an affair with Cross--one that logically had to happen before the marriage, considering I doubt the Order would have let her join if they knew that she used to be a Noah--and had Allen. When Mana adopted Allen, he gave him Cordelia's last name as a way to honor his beloved sister. As for Cordelia once being a Noah, and now she's not, I--in my genius, lol--worked that out, too. Since she is the Player Noah, she doesn't play as in music. It's a little more diabolical. *evil chuckle from Cyril* She plays both sides, good and bad, trying to through both off balance, and taking pleasure in sending both worlds into chaos. She does try to be good, but it is her very nature to counteract yin-and-yang, and create chaos. That's why she was the Earl's favorite; she's everything he wanted in a Noah.

This may continue on if the response is good. I'm not sure.

And sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. This thing is too damn long for me to go back and try to fix. Live with it.


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